Don't Look Back
by The Atomic Bull Terrier
Summary: Don't run from the past; it'll catch you. Don't look to the future; it is already gone. Just keep walking down that desert path...And don't look back....
1. Run Away

[A/N]: Mmmkay. This is kinda a futuristic sorta thing. What if Gruntilda conquered Isle o' Hags? Banjo meets Kazooie and join together to stop her reign of darkness. Keep in mind that Kaz is in her anthromorphic form, which means she has longer, straighter legs, stands upright and is much taller than she is in the game. I stole some of the scenes in this chapter from the movie "Behind Enemy Lines", like when she falls into the mountains of corpses when she's running away. Bwhahahaa... This is my first fan-fic, so be nice. =P you may either faint and/or gag at the tremendous amount of words you have to read.  LoL, heh. Let's get this big, bad momma raring to go! ^_^!

~ PacRat

"I don't think you trust in

             my self-righteous suicide.

             I cry;

             When angels deserve to die."

                            ~ _Chop Suey! _System of a Down

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                                       'D o n 't   L o o k   B a c k. . .'

                                                      Blinded by absolute panic and manically fleeing for the sake of her being across the desolate badlands, a silhouette rocketed forth as speedy as her scrawny legs could tolerate. Cinders of charred flesh floated like burning snowflakes from the ominous black of the heavens. Every breath stung her chest, wheezing in the air tainted with the reeking odor of casualty and smoke. Flames licked and billowed at her as if mocking her, telling her there is no escape; that death was impending. She disregarded their offers with a defiant glare and she barreled more rapidly. Her untamed emerald eyes flashed above her shoulder as a glance at her pursuers tenaciously jogging near her. They were Minjoes, every one toting a mortal Uzi tightly in their armored paws. The villains were henchmen of the warlord Gruntilda ScytheGore; Kazooie used to snicker at how such a gruesome name was changed from one such as 'Winkybunion'. Her rule starved and destroyed nearly the entire island into nothing but desert wastelands and cities ransacked and set ablaze, left to crumble under her wrath. And now, innocent little Kazooie was about to pay the price for breaking one of them. The penalty for crime was ultimate execution either by guns or gas chambers. 

                                                      Her world had gone to Hell and it isn't coming back very soon.

                                                      Long beak clenched on the verge of breaking, pure courage fueled her body to propel forwards and into the charred ruins of a village set fire. She vigorously shook away bothersome residue from her eyelids and fiery plumage. Gray specks of dust blemished the brilliant crimson and onto her golden wingfingers. Beneath her black and steel-toed combat boots, awkward crackling sounds erupted with each footstep along with the stench of rotting. The breegull's eyes snapped wide with horrible realization. Smoldering carcasses of Jinjoes and other animals lay strewn in her path, embers exploding from the numerous bones that lay broken wide open from her treading feet. Kazooie gazed back into the empty sockets, the mouths gawked open and twisted in an eternal scream of agony. She held back the vomit and clumsily trampled through the blood-spattered sight. Her green, oversized army trench coat flapped like a flag against the hellish inferno. She had passed the town's ending point and a marsh began to become clear in the horizon. Then, Kazooie felt her stomach twinge as she plunged off a vertical drop and into the sludge of the swamp. She hacked and flopped in the gooey mess, wiping grime from her sight. A humid, familiar stink tightened her throat. Her jade orbs bulged at the gruesome view ahead of her. Hills upon hills of decaying corpses reeked and writhed with fly larvae. Kazooie reeled over and puked in the quagmire water. Each being now resembled burnt wood or sliced meat, internal organs leaking from ripped bellies and chests. Her heart drummed upon hearing voices from on the bluff she fell off of. Kazooie's brain clicked and, despite the fact dead things rotted away in it, she lay completely still, prone with her beak deep in the mud. The dirt that stained her coat and feathers concealed her form and made her look dead. 

                                                      "The chicken fell in here," acknowledged a masculine, cool voice from above. "Shoot   anything you see that moves. Leave it here to rot like the rest if you do."

                                                      Kazooie stiffened and held her breath. There were random shouts and raucous laughter as they fired bullets at chosen bodies. Below the surface, the breegull cringed at the noise alike to that of squishing rotten fruit reverberated through the vacant marshland air. The heat of passing shrapnel grazed her neck by meager millimeters, making her feathers bristle. A rather dopey voice slurred out his opinion.

                                                      "Duuuuhmmmm...uhh...Mebbe the punk wen' in an' swam aways?"

                                                      "No, too dangerous. He must have run along the shore over there. Let's go, troops." the smooth voice responded. The breegull raised an unseen brow on the gender mistake. The clicking footfalls of the group brought respite to Kazooie. She snapped her head back and swallowed a mouthful of good ol' oxygen, face dribbling with muck. Gnats nipped at her skin and flies pestered her miserable form. Kazooie trudged against the weight of the mud adjacent to her legs, arms stuck out to gain further balance. She rubbed her metal studs on the ridges of her eyes until they were free of dirt. Dragging her sorry bulk onto the shoreline of the slough, she got up to her feet and stumbled into the barren desert land. Tears sprouted and leaked from her naturally cold green stare. She crumpled onto her knees, her baggy jeans sodden and uncomfortable. A wingpaw punched the earth and was later followed by a scream of rage. 

                                                      Why couldn't she do something? She felt so hopeless in opposition to the witch's evil laws. There was no food, no water, nothing. Nothing but the cracking earth that too suffered. This used to be such a gorgeous place, with lush green mountains and happy inhabitants. It was all gone. Killed. Burned. Tortured. Anything that shed blood. She tossed a rock into the endless horizon and listened to the dry clunk it made on contact with the dirt. Everything she loved was gone. Kazooie huddled into a ball on the ground and began to weep.

                                                      A paw lightly splayed on her shoulder. Kazooie shuddered, eyes hesitating to look at the owner. Combat boots, littered with faded stickers and drawings, were the first thing she saw of the stranger. The tops were overlaid with stitched, ratty, saggy cargo jeans. An intimidating black trench coat swathed its heels and brushed the lifeless ground with the desert breeze flapping at its edges. A voice, so silky and composed that all anguish floated away from her heart, gently greeted her.

                                                      "Hey...What's wrong, kid?"

                                                      It was a bear, the first living thing Kazooie had seen that didn't seem hostile. His snout lifted with a reassuring smirk and opened with a soft chuckle. Two pools of crystal blue sparkled and shifted to variations of profound azure to flashing sapphire upon the force of the fire's glare. His pelt was a shiny brown and surprisingly very clean. Aviator goggles had been fastened around his forehead and just under the extra fur that characteristically grew there. On his back, a rucksack bristling with guns and daggers seemed to give off a fair warning. One item caught her attention: a large banjo was tied horizontally to the face of his pack. Kazooie him a blank look though she was calculating which side he was on. This bear was extremely muscular with biceps and a sinewy chest covered by a loose-fitting white shirt; he looked like he knew how to survive.  But his eyes...so mild and tender. Like a window to his very soul. His immense, scarred paw dwarfed her little fingers. The bear hoisted her up to her senses, the smug grin still radiated on his face. Kazooie hastily rubbed the moisture from her eyelids. 

                                                      "First living thing I've seen all month except the guards shootin' at me.", he laughed. "Name's Banjo. I was lookin' for a place to rest, but..." He recognized the burning town behind her. "But I think I'm a little too late to stay here."

                                                            "Kazooie. Mine's Kazooie. I was running away from the guards, too."

                                                            "Kazooie? And I thought my name was weird."

                                                            "Shut up, _Banjo_."

                                                            Banjo turned his back on the bird as if hurt. "It's best it you join me. You're gonna die out here in the Badlands. If the troopers don't get you, the drought will."

                                                            Kazooie faltered. Should she trust such a fearsome creature? Judging by his exterior, he seemed to have a lot of experience with existing out here. Maybe she'll actually eat something other than leaves and bugs for once. The breegull loped after her newfound friend, flailing her arms and calling out for him to slow down. Shadows against the black overcast of the feared hours of darkness, they stood abreast from each other. 

                                                            The journey begins now. Two unlikely, miserable creatures create a bond with one another. A vow to keep the other's ass covered. Will you follow them? Come on, let's go.                

Don't look at the past,

It'll catch you

Don't look to the future,

It has already gone.

Keep Smiling.

You just gotta keep walking

Down that lonely desert path

And don't look back.

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                        The end of the first chapter! Pretty long, eh? O_o; I want Banjo to be a badass. I hope you enjoyed it! This is in the FUTURE. Gruntilda has taken over Isle o' Hags and turned it into a living hell. Well...I hope the next chapter will be up soon. It'll be funny and slightly less serious. Thank you for reading it! ^_~ I hope it wasn't too long for you

- P a c R a t


	2. The Long Walk to Nowhere

A/N: Myeep, t'is me again! :P As if you weren't freaked out enough by the first chapter, here's another one just for you!! Yay!  *Hem, hem* _ Kazooie now has company and Banjo has a new little annoyance to worry about. With nothing but the guns and banjo on his back and the whiskey in his bottle, the duo must strive to survive the apocalyptic life of living off the barren wasteland, where anything can be seen as target practice. Thanks for the review, TurquoisePhoenix! ^-^ well, this chapter ain't as comical as I thought it would have been when I wrote it. O_o maybe the next one? Ready, set, go...

            ~ PacRat          

""

            ~ _Aenima_, Tool.

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                        T H E    S E C O N D   I N S T A L L M E N T: 'T h e   L o n g   W a l k   to   N o w h e r e . . .'

                                                Kazooie's eyes gazed amid utter boredom at the pallid overcast that hung above, shoving her wingpaws casually into her jacket pockets and swinging her head this way and that to the imaginary tune that played in her brain. A huge sigh heaved her chest and she brought her stare down to the withered earth. The occasional bouncing tumbleweed or tree branch gained her attention...for a minute or so...As did the dirt she kicked up with her shuffling boots. Hesitant, her eyes tilted until they came upon the hulking features of her comrade Banjo. His intent look seemed almost emotionless and vacant as they looked on to the never-ending horizon, but Kazooie knew he was as bored as hell much like her. Sensing her eyes, he glanced downward at her with those icy blue orbs. Kazooie hastily snapped her head away as if she had committed an offense to the bear. She listened to a rustling of fabric and the clinking of metal to where he stood. Quietly turning around again, she noticed a small, box-like container in his large paw. He brought it to his lips and took a lengthy swig. Kazooie pursed her beak at the annoying sound of gulping. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She yearned for the rock stars slamming on guitars and screaming until their lungs bled. Scratching the nape of her neck almost bashfully, Kazooie asked what she thought was a dumb question.

                                                "Hey....do...you by any chance...have any music...?

                                                Banjo raised a brow then smiled. In a movement as quick as the eye could glimpse, he slipped off his pack, untied it, and hoisted out a black cube-like radio with an unsteady antennae. All the time, he kept a balanced tempo in walking. Kazooie's eyes brightened with hope. Finally, some entertainment! Whistling static discharge erupted from the tiny speaker while Banjo rotated the knob around a bit. 

"I know a pirate radio station...Not even ol' Slutilda found it out yet."

                                                She smiled gently at the term 'Slutilda'. "Really? Cool."

                                                "Yeah. It has all the tunes you could ever need in a life span. They call it STATIK-1831 FM. Made by some rebellion against the hag. They're looking for new members out here in the Badlands."

                                                The crackling sound faded to a conspicuous beat. The yodeling voice of a cowboy horrifically filled the young bird's ears. She slouched with disappointment. Banjo scratched his chin and then stuffed the radio back into the backpack while it was still on. 

                                                "Guess it must be Bluegrass Hour..." he shrugged. The resonance of the music reverberated eerily across the flat wastelands. The fissured earth seemed incessantly plane and gloomy. Rarely was plant life seen. Only that of tumbleweed was witnessed numerous times by Kazooie. A skeletal, black tree stabbed through the perpetual landscape's scope. Kazooie blinked as her eyesight discerned an object swaying on the mercy of the tree's frail limb. She first thought it was more of a plastic bag or, if fortunate, a passerby laying around in the middle of nowhere. Kazooie darted ahead of Banjo with excitement. The bear grunted in shock, seeing only the backside of a red blur zoom past his slow steps. He sprinted after her at an astonishing rate for one his stature. Yelling out her name in desperation, Banjo thrashed his arms as an attempt to gain her attention. 

                                                "Kazooie! Kazooie! God damn it!"

                                                An 'oof' escaped his lips as he bumbled against the breegull's petrified shoulder. Her green eyes were enlarged and like glass: cold and unmoving. Beak open in a small gape, she seemed to be spellbound by some form of creature. Banjo's voice hung as he began to answer the question. He was entranced too, but not as easily, at the repugnant spectacle that was suspended ahead of them. 

                                    The well-known stink of decomposing flesh and muscle moistened their throats though they made no movement to cover their noses. Spookily, the radio droned to a lifeless whine and added more to the volume of unvarying buzz of the vile, flying pests which infested the ghastly manifestation. A Jinjo's near mummified corpse rocked back and forth in the merciless grip of a noose, similar to a hypnotist's pocket watch. It stared through its black, blood-smeared pits at its witnesses as if it were pleading, its lips twisted into an eternal, horrid gape as a reminder of how hellish this land has become over mere decades. A sign was draped across the misfortunate creature's jutting shoulder blades. In huge, dripping letters slopped upon its cardboard white face, it read:

                                    **"I   P R O N O U N C E   T H E E...**

**                              ....G U I L T Y."**  

                                    Banjo's face twisted in a cringe of realization. Slowly, the bear turned somberly away. Kazooie didn't even respond to his unhurried movement. 

                                    "C'mon, Kazooie...." His tone was soft and impassive, as if he had seen this many times._ Too_ many times. "...Let's go...."

                                    Hesitant, Kazooie inched away from the body. Her frozen eyes finally melted away to her normal senses and she dragged on after him. Taking a single final sidelong glance above her shoulder, the breegull allowed herself to fall behind a few feet before trudged once more after her friend. She knew she was going to witness more appalling things on this long journey to nowhere.

                                    Somewhat still shaken by the ordeal hours ago, Banjo kept his shock hidden under a veil of coolness and tranquility. Kazooie shuffled her boots in uneven strides. Her eyes now focused on the barren gravel underneath her soles, watching wisps of dust gather and churn and afterwards evaporate into the murky gray heavens. A gale, almost refreshing, shoved into their bodies. The slight rustling of fabric made her blink. Kazooie glanced up to make out a tiny white flag against the rugged hill slopes. She stooped over the brittle twig with a rag the size of a napkin, tilting her head to the left in interest. Banjo paused and noticed Kaz's absence. The bear pursed his lips in a small frown, striding with being beaten by the swollen desert gusts. The breegull furrowed an eyeridge upon seeing a sequence of numbers upon its features. 

                                    "Hey Banjo....what are these for, anyway? Crossin' enemy territory or something?" she asked.

                                    "No...Something even worse than that..." he explained in a nearly dangerous manner. "You know those numbers on the flags really are? The distance a frightened man ran before the bullet got him. See, that's twenty feet right there. Poor guy was probably flying down here when some Minjoes came and mowed him down on the spot. Least he went a brave kid."

                                    Kazooie nodded grimly. She skimmed a finger over a flattened crater of dead grass. "Guess this is were he fell, huh?" The corner of Banjo's snout twitched in a half-hearted smirk. The arms, legs, even some of the facial features were imprinted completely into the meadow, sprawled out in the final seconds of death. Kaz guessed it was a coyote. She cautiously flattened her palm on the area; it was still warm.

                                    The bear's square-shaped ears swiveled to a rigid still in the direction of the land behind him. Craning his neck, his now squinting eyes noticed a pack of menacing black shapes hovering towards them. He guessed they were just damn vultures stalking him again and....

                                    ....Wait.

                                    .....Something was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

                                    A consistent purr of engines made his heart skip at least three beats. He snatched the unsuspecting breegull's shoulder and tugged her eagerly along. She stumbled to her feet amidst a dust cloud, protesting with annoyed cuss words. Kazooie locked eyes with the bear and all time ceased moving. He was frightened and worried not for his own well being but hers as well. She stopped her struggles and went along although Banjo tugged her along. 

                                    "Run, kid! Ruuuuuuuuun!!!" he cried with huffing breaths, breaking into a swift run for his life. Kazooie, puzzled, blinked over her shoulder. A bullet barely missed her temple and rocketed into the desert soil. Four Minjoes, each bearing rifles and other such mortal weapons, zoomed towards the fleeing pair like starved buzzards. Roaring jetpacks with terrifying, outspread wings similar to that of a devil were strapped freely to their backsides and kept them aloft. They whooped upon sight of their quarry and swooped down for a kill. Kazooie loped frantically as she realized Banjo was far ahead of her. She shouted his name, legs wobbling with the remaining aches of last night.

                                    "Banjo! Wait! Don't leave me here!" she screamed in her utter panic.

                                     A shower of bullets pummeled down upon the bird. Her exhausted eyes caught the fountains of earth exploding from the impact of the shots, crying out in agony as one grazed her shoulder. Banjo whipped out a Uzi from his pack and began releasing a mad barrage of lead upon the foe. He roared with revenge, body racking with the wicked rattling of the gun. A crimson Minjo tumbled in a ball of fire with a screech. The lingering three looked at each other and then loomed forth once more as if nothing had occurred. With a watery gurgle, another blue Minjo nosedived with a shot to the gullet. In response to the attack, a murkily cobalt Minjo fired rapid shots at the bear. He was surprisingly swift for one of his stature. His footfalls were carefully placed as they avoided all gunshots meant to kill him. With a jerk of his paw, he fired and the enemy flopped down as his heart was pierced by the gun pellet. The last one, a dangerous-looking black Minjo wavered among second thoughts in midair. He then veered off into the pasty horizon skies until he was a mere speck against the grey. Kazooie knelt feebly and rubbed her wound with a contorted face. Banjo loomed over his companion with troubled eyes.

                                    "You won't make it with tired legs and a shot shoulder, Kaz. C'mon, I'll carry you." With the gentleness of a mother handling her newborn cub, he hoisted the young bird off her knees and into his arms. Kazooie lolled her head to Banjo's chest and noiselessly faded off to slumber. The bear gazed down at the pitiful creature cradled in his arms. Her beak and portions of her face were still caked in dried muck and her legs felt solid with knotted muscles against his skin. He guessed she had been walking her own path before she came upon him. With a guttural sigh, he stared to the rugged plains ahead of him...

                                    ....and he began to walk with friend in tow...What seemed like forever... on an endless journey to nowhere....


	3. Big Brother

 "Underneath the cold, dry skies,

  Creatures bleed before our eyes.

  No mercy for the weak or dying,

  Obey the Lord or blood shall be flying.

   Pleading, thirsty, screaming for the whip to stop its course,

   These are the slaves of Lord Gruntilda ScytheGore!"

                        ~ _Ode to Death_, extracted from the depths of the Minjonian Camp.

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            T H E     T H I R D   I N S T A L L M E N T:   'B i g   B r o t h e r. . .'

                                       Far onward, the hills became sporadic with craggy outcrops of serrated boulders and ravines like gaping maws willing to swallow up any who are bold and foolish enough to cross such a wide abyss with a beginning though lacking no end. This feature continued until dunes of pasty sand curved the land. Here, a menacing structure pierced the sunless heavens like a blade with its pointed, steel crowns. Curves of iron swirled from the rims of windowpanes and rooftops. Great slate statues of gargoyles and demons grimaced and snarled at incoming prisoners, baring their stone fangs and curling their tongues with contempt. The fearsome silhouettes of Minjoes bristling with weapons marched stiffly across the polished windows and amidst the dim tangerine glow of a firefly lantern inside. A massive bolted drawbridge blocked all entry. A fat, red Minjo waddled up to the door, dwarfed by its sheer size. Leaning out a window close by, another Minjo, black, nodded leisurely and clicked the glass shut tight. With a grunt the red monster pushed vigorously upon the handle of a wooden helm. There was a moan as the seal cracked open, then came plummeting to the earth at an alarming speed. The Minjo screeched and jumped out of its path with amazing agility for one of his size. His comrades chuckled from above and vanished into the darkness, nearly dodging a tossed rock. 

                                                Awesome numbers of multi-colored Minjoes flocked the winding and gloomy hallways of the castle. The soft noise of moaning echoed hollowly against the narrow corridors and was soon silenced by a threat or a crazy banging of prison bars.  A single door at the end of a poorly lit hall stood out from the others; instead of blackened lumber it consisted entirely of steel with bolted hinges. Its icy face was stained by blood-spattered handprints dragged and plastered as a reminder of what horrid things occurred in the gloom below and following this sealed entry. Behind it, stone steps snaked into murky shadows of the dungeons and slave barracks. A female hyena soughed as the final torch gave a dying hiss and diminished to the darkness. The only source of light became the calm glow of the moon coming in through thick bars jarred between the windows. The prisoner's expression soon shifted to sneakiness as she soundlessly lifted herself to her feet. Brushing her paws against her rugged shorts, she quietly approached a figure hustling about in a brown cloak beneath the protective shield of darkness that enveloped her almost entirely.

                                                "Are you ready?" she sounded nervous. She was soon answered by a pair of striking azure eyes under the cowl. They blinked once, and the concealed head nodded softly. A paw lifted the hood from its features and the mysterious being was soon revealed. It was a female honeybear, small cuts and bruises of abuse blemishing her pale peach hue around her snout. Her hair radiated a brilliant gold, cut extremely short with intense purple highlights on the tips of her spiky dreadlocks that dangled over her eyeridges and against her cheekbones. In one paw, a paper was clasped tightly against her chest and heart. 

                                                "Yes." She replied simply to her friend. The hyena could easily tell that she too was as frightened as her right now. The bear tugged at crumbling slabs of stone from the wall in their cell. Scraping was heard as the block loosened and soon popped free into the outside world. Crawling on her belly, she craned her neck to the dog. "We have to hurry before someone sees us, Sibbania." Sibbania gave a vigorous nod and knelt on her forepaws. She cringed softly as the gravel skinned her palms, yellow eyes gazing into the newly made hole in the wall with uncertainty. 

                                                "But....what if they catch us...or...._shoot_ us?" she asked shakily. 

                                                "I'm afraid too, Sibbania. As long as our stars are watching us, nothing bad will happen." The bear's eyes glanced slowly to the heavens above, her mouth moving in a slight whispered prayer. Black spreads of clouds rolled from the plains and blotted out the shimmering bodies. She frowned with a combination of dread and anxiety, wriggling deeper into the gap until the night breeze caressed her cheek as she cautiously peeked her head from the darkness of the prison. Trying not to make a sound, she wobbled to her feet all the while breathing in the fresh oxygen. Sibbania gulped and entered rear-first. A whispered, feeble voice bid her from behind the rows of steel. A badger child with sunken cheeks and hollowed eyes gazed at her with sorrow, trembling from the frigid cold of the stone floor.

                                                "_Good luck_..." he murmured before melting into the ebony gloom of his cage. Sibbania nodded before crawling backwards to supposed freedom. 

                                                The hyena gave a breath of contained joy and excitement as the silky sands stroked her tender paws. The air was moist and cool, refreshing from the stuffy atmosphere of the prison. The bear stumbled on loose earth before gaining balance and snatching Sibbania's claw in urgency. Soon, the duo frantically struggled to avoid the guards' razor-sharp eyes. Faraway shouts and gaining footsteps gave hint that they have been spotted. Gunfire rattled and hissed within the bear's small ears as her heart began to thrum insanely in her breast.

                                                "_Run!_" she screamed. Bullets spewed dust and pebbles so close, they ricocheted against their heels. Raucous laughter ensued along with the clicking of metal boots merely a few feet away. The bear hissed through her teeth as a bullet found her hip. Sibbania gawked at the sight of blood moistening the coarse texture of her friend's shroud. Shaking her skull back to its senses, the honeybear gave the dog a reassuring gaze. 

                                                Then, a horrid bang that sounded over the rest came in a tidal wave across the dunes. Sibbania made the fatal mistake of turning around to see the source of such a noise. Everything seemed to have happened in slow motion as the bullet intended for her indeed found its target. The hyena's body rocked as it pierced through her ribs and lodged itself in the muscle of her heart. She wobbled for a bit, then crumpled limp to the earth with her face to the sky. The bear cried in horror and hobbled to her friend's aid. She knelt beside her and nuzzled her paw against her moist cheek. 

                                                "_I guess the stars weren't....hhhhhh...watch...ing....me tonight..._"

                                                "Don't die, Sib....you can't...You were so close... You are my best friend.... the only one I ever had in this...land..." the bear sobbed. Tears sprinkled the hyena's snout. Sib's lips curled into a feeble smile.

                                                "_They got me....Go. You... you can make it.... I'll...be watching you... with the... stars..._" Her paw went flaccid and her eyes creased shut as she let death take her soul. The bear gazed at the lifeless body and released the paw from her grasp. Tears clouded her vision and her throat gave hiccups as she struggled to cease her crying. 

                                                "We got one!" a gruff voice shouted behind the hills. The honeybear shambled with her wounded pelvis. She crouched 'neath the shelter of a pile of tumbleweeds and rubbed out her footprints hastily with her sleeve. Silent, she watched as a gang of Minjoes punted Sibbania's body with scorn. A green Minjo spat on the wound and fired his Magnum rifle to the heavens. 

                                                "Huhuhuh...this'll moike a luverly coat, dontchya think, Gorle?" he chuckled, slinging the corpse over his massive shoulder. The one named Gorle, a villainous, red one, cackled and shed a gap-toothed beam. The bear shuddered from the cruelty of these beasts. She waited until the group left with their prey in tow, and emerged from the prickly bramble. A tattered paper was unfolded in her paws and her swollen blue eyes stared at the face that was upon it. Another honeybear, with angry eyes glowering at the camera, seemed to stand in all his black and white glory before her. The word 'WANTED' was plastered in a large font above the photo. She embraced the poster to her heart and dragged herself to her feet.

                                                "Big brother....I'm coming..." 


	4. Time Repeats Itself

A/N: ARGH Late update cause my computer decided to shut down whilst I was in the middle off it. No, I'm not dead. In this chapter and in the next, Banjo reveals some of his hidden past while Tooty remembers what horrible things happened to her in the dungeons of Gruntilda's castle. Anyway, thanks for all the kind reviews! I'm asking for a bit of constructive criticism this time so I can know what you guys think should improve in this story. Thank you again.  
  
- PACRAT  
  
--  
  
"Shrouding all the ground around me  
is this holy crow above me.  
Black as holes within a memory  
and blue as our new second sun.  
I stick my hand into his shadow  
to pull the pieces from the sand.  
Which I attempt to reassemble  
to see just who I might have been.  
I do not recognize the vessel,  
but the eyes seem so familiar.  
Like phosphorescent desert buttons  
singing one familiar song..."  
  
- _Third Eye_, Tool (Banjo's theme)  
  
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T H E F O U R T H I N S T A L L M E N T: 'T i m e R e p e a t s I t s e l f . . .'  
  
Kazooie lay upon her side, eyes faintly sealed and breaths hushed and calm, against a mound of prairie grass and tumbleweed. Her newly bandaged wound faced the rock ceiling of the cavern, the bear watching as the white strips of rags blotched with crimson stains. Banjo had taken shelter inside a small outcrop with enough room to crawl about within. He smirked softly at the innocent phrase the young breegull took on in her doze, cocooning her army jacket against her form and nudging some of the bramble to cushion her further. Kazooie snuggled in deeper and hugged the makeshift blanket closer for warmth. Banjo untied his boots and tossed them towards a rounded corner across from where he sat. Creakily rising to his feet, the bear shambled over to where his own resting place was, which was merely his trenchcoat flattened on the cave floor. He nestled his cheek on his backpack and grunted as sleep weighed down his eyelids, creasing them shut slowly, slowly, until they were still in the manner of slumber.  
  
_The void of ebony soon faded into the silhouette of a little honeybear cub against the brilliant tangerine radiance of sunrise, his legs dangling over the overhanging branch of an oak wood tree. Banjo was seeing himself, in his days of childhood, of blue skies and hills upon hills of rolling emerald fields. The cub's familiar sapphire eyes glimmered orange in the light of dawn. A dragonfly tickled the tip of his pink-blotched nose, making the cub giggle sweetly and bat at it with one of his paws, watching as its opaque, skinny body flittered into a patch of cattail reeds. He rubbed his nostrils on the back of his paw and soon wiped it off on the chest of his denim, faded blue overalls.  
_  
  
A gentle smile lit up Banjo's face. He hasn't had a dream like this in a while.   
  
_The cub rolled over on his belly and hung from the limb by his paws. He let himself drop like a ripe apple, landing on his bottom soundly with a high-pitched grunt. His ears wiggled once to the noise of purring engines from across the horizon. An outline of an oncoming caravan bounced along the dirt path. The eyes widened with joy and the little cub bumbled over the loose soil of the sowed farmland, crying out in joy.  
  
"Mamma! Mamma! Papa's home!"_  
  
"...mamma..." he let the word escape from his lips in a whispered breath.   
  
_ Then he saw her. A long mane of golden locks covered her neck and shoulders, glinting almost heavenly in the rays of the freshly-risen sun. Her sweet endless pools of flickering turquoise and azure were coated with tears as she gazed down at her son. Cradled in her slender arms was a bundle of pink blankets, held close to her chest. A soft grunt came from deep within the layers followed by a placid coo. The mother lifted the flap that concealed a tiny beauty.  
  
The squinty blue eyes of a newborn cub blinked groggily, the fuzzy peach nose wriggling feebly as it took in the new scents of the outer world. It was a girl, her daughter, little curls of blonde peeking from the downy layer of brown fur. She yawned, her tongue and toothless gums exposed. The baby smacked her lips while gazing up at her mother. Mamma's smile grew and she planted a small kiss on the little one's forehead. She laughed an angelic laugh and watched her son barrel towards them.  
  
"Slow down, Banjo, I have Tooty here with me."  
  
"Mamma, Mamma, I saw the van! I watched all day today and I saw it! Papa's here!"_  
  
Banjo rolled onto his side, sighing dreamily.   
  
_ A knock on the wooden door caught all of their attention. The knob twisted and the lock clicked open. A great outline stood in the doorway, his burly shoulders scarcely hitting the sides. Even through the shadows, a joyous grin materialized on his snout and opened in a hearty laugh. The solider had come from the war.  
  
"Papa!" Banjo bolted down through the living quarters towards his father. The figure knelt down and opened his arms to welcome his son. The cub was enveloped in muscular arms as he was embraced warmly. Still holding Banjo, the bear strode out into plain view, features revealed by the rays of the sun. His face was similar to that of his son's, with the exception of a glazed scar running from his eyebrow all the way down to his jowl. Banjo wrapped his arms around his thick neck and buried his snout in the dark brown pelt. The eyes found his wife and then trailed down to her baby.  
  
"....Sonata...."  
  
".... Legato..." Sonata lowered her face down to the infant. "Come here and meet your new daughter, honey." Legato had left to fight in the war when his love was pregnant with the cub. He had felt guilty, not being there for the birth, and often tried to put it behind him in battles. But now he was satisfied, seeing his babe and her prettiness for the first time.  
  
"What's her name?" he asked, amazed.  
  
"It's Tooty...just what you and I agreed on."_  
  
_ The dream shifted to a hideous nightmare. It was in the house basement, gloomy and crowded with food and boxes. He could see his mother crouched in fear, hugging Tooty close to her breast for security. Her eyes bulged and her body trembled as she stared at a small opening in the ceiling. He watched as his young self pressed his body to her stomach, he too shaking violently with swollen eyes. Roars and shouts exploded from above, one he recognized was his father's.  
  
"Get the hell away from there, bitch!" the fighter bellowed, firing a round of bullets at some unknown creature. There was a screech, followed by more ruckus._  
  
Banjo grunted and dug his claws into the cavern floor, his jaws clenched and snout contorted.   
  
_   
  
Like thunder, a single gunshot rattled the family's eardrums. Legato's dying roar reverberated in the entire household, and a pleased cackle came soon after. There was a thump and mocking words from the enemy above. Banjo buried his tears in his mother's dress in his horror. A tiny whimper was emitted from Tooty's mouth, and Sonata gently hushed her.  
  
"Hey, Goreleech, I 'eard somethin' down 'ere!" a gruff voice shouted. There was a thwack and a yelp. A scolding, reedy voice screeched into the bear family's ears.  
  
"Open tha door then, stoopid!"  
  
Sonata murmured inaudible pleads and squeezed her eyes shut. Banjo did the same. The head of a rifle jammed through the hinge and sent the door rocketing through the air until it collided with the wall. The milky, sightless orb of an obese, grubby yellow Minjo stared viciously down at them. The beast beamed with plague-ridden teeth and cried out to his comrades in the living room.  
_  
_ "We gots oorselfs a mummy an' 'er baby bears! Haw haw!"  
_  
_ He dragged Sonata by her nape viciously, ignoring her pleads and the wails of Tooty as he pulled her body against the ladder. Banjo, terrified and panicked, sobbed out for his mother.  
  
"Mamma! Stop it!"_  
  
"Stop....mamma..." Banjo was rolling feverishly, tightening and relaxing his fists as the scene in his thoughts continued. "....Mamma..."  
  
_  
  
"C'mere, yew lil' brat, yew'll do fine as a nice coat wif yo' fathah fer me! Hawhawhaw!" The Minjo grasped for Banjo with filthy claws. Rage took over the little one. He gave a screeching growl and dug his canines deep into the bad-tasting flesh on the back of the hand, the evil creature yowling in pain and punching the cub in the cheek. Banjo shook his skull, a bruise frothing under his eyelid, and ducked behind a barrel of olives. The Minjo hissed, the jaundiced eyes glowering ferociously in the dark.  
  
"If'n we ain't gonna getchyoo, the damn desert will!"_  
  
"...no...No...Stop.....no more..." he mumbled, half awake.  
  
_   
  
The memory flashed to one he has never seen before. An outline dressed in a shroud wafted across the desert horizon. It ceased walking its path, looking in his direction. The eyes.... so blue, so affable, they greeted him. A voice, so weak and tiny, seemed to dominate his hearing.  
  
"...Banjo...help us... please...Before..."  
  
Gruntilda's glowing orb peered over smoldering ruins, flashing green. Her metallic cackle rattled his brain and her massive shape seemed to be birthed from the smoke of her wreckage.  
  
".... Before victory is hers...."_  
  
_ Three letters faded before him... ones that seemed so familiar, yet lost in the depths of his brain:  
  
"B.O.W  
BROTHERS OF WAR."  
_  
  
"...NOOO!!!" Banjo roared into the murky dark of the cave. His fur was drenched in perspiration and tears, the shirt he was wearing now soaked to the seams. The bear massaged his temple and shuddered. The dream...nightmare...whatever, it seemed as if he was watching a video of his past. The reddened eyes glanced at Kazooie and were thankful she was still asleep. Banjo lay back down, snout buried in his pillow with a throaty sigh. It didn't mean anything...It was only a dream...something his brain did to keep itself occupied. Just a bunch of random pictures brought up from long ago.  
  
So he thought.  
  
Banjo wiped sweat from his locks, struggling to get back to sleep. 


	5. Welcome to BOW

"Follow me into the desert  
As thirsty as you are  
Crack a smile and cut your mouth  
And drown in alcohol  
'Cause down below the truth is lying  
Beneath the riverbed  
So quench yourself and drink the water  
That flows below her head."

- _Burden in my Hands_, SoundGarden

* * *

T H E F I F T H I N S T A L L M E N T: 'W e l c o m e t o B. O. W'… 

A feeble groan escaped Kazooie's lips as she began to awaken in a spinning world of seething agony. Her eyes began to crease open into tiny slits, the young breegull's eyes shimmering faintly through a thin glaze. Some type of clothing rubbed against her skin and enveloped her body in a makeshift cocoon… Kaz struggled and pushed her elbow against it, but it only caused a jolt of stunning pangs that fired from her shoulder blade and along her backbone. Her body shuddered then collapsed in both fatigue and defeat upon the cavern floor.

"Don't move, kid. You'll mess up the loose binding I used to fix up that bullet hole." Banjo's voice, sounding strangely lethargic and sloppy, echoed in her hurting skull. His coat was wild and disheveled and his hollowed eyes were enclosed in the swollen purple rings of a sleepless night. Kaz only stared at him, almost amazed even. The bear gave a numb grunt at her response and returned his hooded gaze to the crackling bonfire. A rusted can of beans sat upon a frying pan over the blaze, propped up by a bundle of twigs with its lid peeled off crudely by a blade. The breegull pressed her uninjured arm to the floor and hoisted her entire upper body into a sitting position. The smell was tempting… but Banjo's appearance made her nervous. He could snap out at her in seconds…

"What's wrong, Kaz? By the way you looked, I figured you were starved." He shuffled a bit, and then poked at the can with the branches of a stick to heat it up a bit quicker. This assured the breegull as she edged a bit closer towards him.

"I am…" Kaz noted as she placed herself down by Banjo's side. The breegull pursed her avian lips as she continued. "No offense, Banjo, but… you look like shit."

The bear furrowed his brow. "Yeah… Feel like it too. Couldn't sleep last night… had a… bad dream." In the orange glow of the fire, a shadow of guilt and sorrow began to form about his face, but it soon disappeared as he shifted his attention to the beans. He grabbed the panhandle and lifted it gingerly, avoiding the extreme heat of the metal as he placed it on the stone floor and warned Kaz like her mother would. "Careful. It could be hot now."

She nodded and nudged her coat around her paw, lifting the meal with the makeshift glove and placing it in her covered lap. Banjo tossed her a plastic spoon coated with dirt and grime from his rucksack, smirking as she clumsily bounced it around in her hands. Kazooie cringed a bit at the sight of the bubbling goop and swirled the lumps floating along the surface. It wasn't as scrumpdiddlyumptious as she planned… but it was food, and she needed something to fill up her gut. She scooped some of the beans up in her spoon and shoved it in her beak. It tasted… pretty good, actually. Well anything would after a diet of garbage and bugs. Kazooie hummed with delight and ravenously began to dig in, not even pausing to breathe. She hasn't eaten anything this good for a while… and she was enjoying the chance. The bear chuckled calmly at the scene.

"Jesus Christ, kid! You're gonna be like an old dog if you eat enough of that crap." Banjo pulled the bag onto his legs, the guns and knives clicking and ringing as they rubbed up against each other. He looked over a hunting rifle, was satisfied with its full ammo, and slid it carefully back inside. Kazooie dropped the spoon in the emptied can with a soft belch and watched him. Her emerald gaze was trapped upon its glinting steel barrel… an idea, more of a wish, raced in her mind.

"Teach me how to use that." she blurted out, really without thinking.

"What?"

"The gun. I want to learn how to shoot… like you do."

"I don't think you'd make it through with that bad shoulder, kid. Besides, a gun ain't a toy. It can make a person's life end in an instant right there…." Banjo lectured to the young breegull as he clenched his beloved Uzi like a trophy. Kazooie felt like a moron for the first time since she met him… Her mind raced for an excuse.

"C'mon… this thing's just a scratch compared to what I used to get. Watch." Kaz shed a somewhat masculine grin and thudded her fist against her injury. Soon she was left cringing with her body hunched around her arm. Banjo pointed with his chin with a look of 'I told you so' upon his face.

"Kid, that thing is no scratch. And believe me, I've probably been through worse." he growled as he massaged a fading blister between his toes. Suddenly his face went blank, staring forward as if realizing something… Only Banjo knew the ways of the gun. How to hold it, load it, and fire it off. But if he passed it on to Kazooie… it would equal twice the fighting power against his enemies.

A crawling smile started to take its form as the straightforward scheme ran through the bear's mind. He craned his neck towards Kaz while humming thoughtfully, catching her off guard as she snapped up her head to stare back to him. "Y'know… when you really think about it… teaching you how to fire won't end up being such a disaster after all."

"You mean…"

"Yep." Banjo unfolded his black trenchcoat and slipped it on. "Get your jacket on and use this." The rifle he had checked ahead of time was tossed indolently into the breegull's arms. It was, to her surprise, quite heavy. She ignored that factor and slung it over her good shoulder with some pride in her stride as she crawled across the ground to pick up her coat. She didn't know where Banjo was going to take her, but the bear figured out the lay of the land much earlier and understood its terrain more than she ever could.

"Just stay close and don't go strayin' off somewhere. Someone could take you on as a target if you do it where we're goin'. It happens."

--

The scorched remnants of decomposing and dying trees suffocated the desert ground beneath them, their skeletal limbs reaching for the heavens as if they were the souls of the departed searching for redemption from this hellish world. Lilac-hued mist wreathed and coiled about their roots as they blanketed the forest earth completely in an ocean of mystery. All about lay the empty cases of bullets, and even guns if you were lucky enough, buried in the sand.

Kaz stooped behind a log, her rifle propped upon the mossy, insect-infested hide as she squinted through the hunting scope. The bear was in her sights and, fortunately, he wasn't the target. In his left paw he tossed the hollowed can of Guff beans idly about in his palm. Banjo smirked as he withdrew his fingers to let it plummet on the face of a cleanly chopped stump, and then sauntered over towards Kazooie with an inflated chest of mock authority. The breegull couldn't help but snicker a bit.

"Alright, kid, it's time for your first shootin' lesson. Do your best and make a lastin' impression on me. I could use the extra help in the Badlands… if it's worth it." The bear crouched behind Kaz, using his powerful body as a cushion against the gun's recoil. He wrapped his muscle-laden arms around her and supported the small wingpaws as she held the rifle.

"First, support yourself. Dig your heels into the sand and stiffen up good. Become one with the desert." Banjo's tone was lowered to a suspenseful whisper, as if they were hunting the most dangerous, bloodthirsty animal alive. And they were: the Minjo soldier. But in this case it was your average tin can. The clicking of rocks could be heard as Kazooie ground her soles into the earth. Banjo continued on with his instructions.

"Good. Now focus on the target and put it in the center of your scope. If the aim's lopsided, then it's a glancing shot and you'd be fucked if this were a real situation. Concentrate kid." The breegull narrowed her peering eye and adjusted her scope lens a little to her liking with her free paw.

"You should be grateful I reloaded this baby up already. Push that switch down with your thumb." She did so. "And pull the damn trigger."

****

BANG! Kaz's thrilled laughter mingled with the resounding explosion of the gunfire. Like a shockwave the noise thundered across the scrubland and into the rock-strewn horizon far, far ahead of them. Banjo chuckled as the can returned to earth with a monotonous thump, bouncing a few times before resting upon its smashed middle.

"Wut th' fuck? Oi thawt yew said thur wurn't anybody else 'ere bowt us, Scrach!" bellowed a guttural, dim-witted voice from inside the ominous woodlands. Banjo's blood drained from his snout and his heart leapt into his throat… yet he kept a cool outwards impression for the breegull to follow. He wasn't going to let this happen again…. they weren't going to take away what he worked for. Kazooie was the only reason he didn't go insane from sheer loneliness these past weeks. To him… she was a friend. A frustrated growl rumbled from the bear's gritted fangs as he shoved the bird into some bramble to conceal her.

"Shut your mouth and keep real still. I can handle this, you just stay put here until it's over." he murmured hastily before pushing a few branches over her face and body. The hunt had begun.

"Well, whaddya t'ink oi am, a damn radar o' somethin'?" came the shrieking reply of a lavender-hued Minjo as he bumbled through the undergrowth. He used the nose of his .45 to nudge aside bothersome twigs and barbs from his baggy and dirt-splattered pantlegs, grumbling and cursing wickedly under his breath in the process. Scrach was something of a tenderfoot. He wasn't used to the rough terrain and was too lazy to make it any better. Little did he know, through his clumsy mistake, someone was stalking him… noticing his every movement and awaiting for the right moment. Kazooie reeled back as she picked up the stench of the Minjo, a characteristic that surrounded them like an aura. She saw his boots clomping past her bush and listened to his labored breathing as he stood in front of her to rest his aching leg muscles.

"Huh…? Wot's this?" A grubby paw plucked the can from the ground. Scrach's cunning yellow eyes scanned it once over and then he tossed it back with a sneer. "False ala-"

Banjo pounced. In a blur of ebony and glinting metal, he had his victim knocked flat on his back and at his vengeful mercy. Bonfires of pent-up wrath the bear had long since sealed away now kindled in his sapphire eyes and his upper lip twitched with an oncoming snarl. Scrach gurgled as the boot stomped upon his gullet, clawing at the dirt for his weapon. Banjo noticed this and kicked the gun further from his grasp with scorn. The Minjo was forced to stare down the barrel of the Uzi, jowl bobbing and his courage only working up to speak merely three words.

"Th'…. Th' Black Ghost…."

"You got that right, motherfucker." He cocked his gun. "Now put a smile on. I'm doing this world a favor."

"An' wot favah would dat be?" Banjo cringed as the nozzle of a pistol was shoved into the nape of his neck. A Minjo of a sickly green color grinned with the snaggled, rotted teeth of malice up towards the bear and pushed more firmly into his flesh. "Looks loike we gots ouwselves a prisonah, buckies!"

Another pair of Minjoes emerged from the brushwood, blue and yellow, and snickering cruelly as they began to surround and block off any type of escape for Banjo. Even while staring what could be his death in the face, he didn't cower nor tremble in their presence like most did. He just followed them with his cold stare but didn't move his head once. The yellow soldier snatched the Uzi from his clutches, his eyes shimmering with an avaricious glow as he scanned the weapon's magnificent figure. Scrach was punted brutally by his leader a few times before he was dragged to his feet from underneath Banjo's boot for his mistake.

"Lez rake 'is back clean wid me cat-o-nine!"

"Nah… blow owt 'is knees an' make 'im 'obble 'round n' 'round, hukhukuhk!"

All turned their necks stiffly at the sound of a distant gunshot to the western sand hills. Never did the gang take this as a warning. The green leader increased the pressure against the trigger and, as he did, grey matter and bone fragments ricocheted through the air as his head exploded from a mortal bullet. Banjo wiped the disgusting mess from the side of his snout, shoved the corpse away with contempt and hatred for the species and ducked behind the trees, picking up his gun as he fled from the line of fire. The cobalt Minjo's body convulsed as more shells entered his body then slumped to the ground, never to rise again hopefully. His yellow partner turned tail to run, but a well-tossed, sharpened pole through the neck ended any progress. Scrach groveled on the earth on all fours for a second and then bolted off in a blind dash towards the woodlands. Kazooie now sought her chance. Raising her shotgun, she positioned it between the twigs all the while trying to remember what the bear taught her. The lavender Minjo screeched as the shell pierced his calf muscle, but he stumbled on, fueled by primal fear. Kaz poked her beak from the bushes towards Banjo.

A lengthy, high-pitched whistle wavering in tone now replaced the explosions of fired bullets, bouncing among the hollowed trunks of the trees until they met the keen ears of Banjo. Kazooie was utterly confused and looked to the side at the bear for guidance. The look that was upon his face was something she'd never forget. Tears glittered on the rims of his eyelids as he replied with the same whistle, but deeper, and a huge smile engulfed his normally cold features. As if he were truly happy. Banjo swept his paw in long, boisterous waves above his head and he began to laugh cheerfully. Laughing. What sweet noise.

Caravans bounced over the rims of the sand dunes. Creatures of varied species fired off their guns and whooped in celebration, clinging to the passenger doors by a curved bar. A tattered, crimson banner wafted in the breeze with the letters 'B' 'O'' and 'W' in bold ebony type. The memories flooded into the bear's memory bank as he jogged towards the approaching jeeps, still chuckling. This was his home. He saw friends he hadn't seen in months, even years, smiling through the windshield with teardrops trickling down their faces.

"Banjo! Welcome back, man! We missed ya."


End file.
